Hoarders, the Prequel

In response to a large box left by UPS (what you see is a quarter of her latest inventory):

Me: "Mom, why did you buy a bird feeder shaped like an Airstream trailer? "
Mom: "It's cute isn't it?" 
Me: "You have eleven, that makes it more like a bird trailer park."
Me: "And the banister post shaped like an Uncle Sam nutcracker?"
Mom: "To show I'm American. Duh."
Me: “Of course, how silly of me. The surfboard clock?"
Mom: "Ya got me on that one. I don't think I surf. Do I? "
Me: "No, not unless you count escaping death in a statistical impossibility."
Me: "Mom, you don't wear hats. Ever."
Mom: "They had one in every color! And you know I love pink!"
Me: "You're a hoarder."
Mom: "I'm just insuring you have enough to do when I finally go."

This, this is why I tell her that I can't teach her the internet. She manages all this with an ink pen, catalogs and a cordless phone. So I tell her that if she breaks the internet she will get electrocuted and all the ventilators in the nearby hospital will short-circuit. It's a lie I can live with.